


SnowStorm

by SnowyKaira



Series: Dragon Heart [1]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Minor Character Death, mystery of sorts, prologue of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26826658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyKaira/pseuds/SnowyKaira
Summary: In the land of Ta'var the winds of a snowstorm passes by.Aka a daily life in one Allen Walker and his mentor Cross Marian
Series: Dragon Heart [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961761
Kudos: 9





	SnowStorm

Ta'var is unusually cold this time of the year. The snow washes over the landscape covering each house and roof in frost. The streets are full of men and women going about their days, swaddled up in thick clothes to avoid catching frostbite. Children run around, being scolded by their mothers for disturbing the peace. 

The square seems to freeze in time and quiet down. There are whispers passed around as a lone figure enters the town square. Instantly villages turn around to avoid him. He’s wearing a thick, cream-colored sweater and a black hood over his face with hair as white as the snow. A white mask covers most of his face. On his left hand is a thin white glove, on his right a matching twin. On his right arm lies a woven basket presumably for goods. People stop in place and look, some glares of interest while others of disgust. 

“That boy is a mystery,”.

“He does not belong here, what is he thinking?”.

“Someone ought to bring him in before he freezes to death,”. 

“That child will be nothing but trouble,”. 

They chat idly amongst themselves, unaware that the figure keenly listens to every word spoken. 

The rumor goes that he’s an orphan. He’s never seen to be accompanied by anyone, only alone. Some believed him to be an old man due to his white hair. 

No one knows why he hides his left arm or keeps his face hidden from the public eye. Some assume he’s simply shy while most others, much more malicious, believe him to be scarred and ugly-undeserving of the world they live in. Even the children, grasping their parent's hand tightly, don't dare to go near. 

He goes around the few stalls containing a variety of flowers. He gives “thank yous” before leaving as quickly as he came. The townspeople look on as the retreating figure disappears amongst the winds. And thus the day continues in its usual fashion. 

A small boy returns to his sister’s side and curiously asks” Sister, who was that?”. His sister pauses, unsure of what to say. She herself doesn’t _know_ who he is, only what the rumors say about him. She kneels down and fixes his yellow woolen hat. 

“He is a man of mystery. Please stay away from him, I don’t want you getting hurt,” is her reply. He shrugs it off before chasing a leaf in the wind with gleeful laughter. 

*******

The house on the hill is famous for its tragic story. It was a bit far from the rest of the village but for a reason. It belonged to a well known and respected comedian of a man who brought bright smiles amongst the children. He was loved by many. Every day he’s come down to perform at the square. Everyday laughter would fill the air with a beautiful melody. Unbeknownst to the townsfolk, he was attacked one night. They heard his cries too late. His assailants were quiet and effective. They donned shadows and before long set the house ablaze. It had occurred during a heavy snowstorm, so the smoke had been almost invisible to the human eye. The news came after that night. The villagers crowded around the ruins and looked for the man, but they only found his charred remains and a top hat. They couldn’t see any signs of struggle and the fire hadn’t spread from the house despite the lush shrubbery that surrounded it. Almost as if it was contained. It was truly bizarre. The people held vigil and erected a beautiful tombstone in memory of an amazing man. _Mana Walker: Never stop, always keep walking_ was carved into the stone. It was a popular phrase they commonly heard him speak. They believed it would give him peace in the afterlife. 

No one in the village knew he had a son, not related by blood but a son nonetheless. He had died trying to save him, exchanging his life for another. One irritated Cross Marian found the child just outside the house with an arm burnt black and a red pentagon scar etched into his left eye. His mouth was hanging open wide but no voice came out. His throat would not let him scream or cry anymore, raw from exhaustion. 

Today the figure arrives at the ruined home and walks towards the center. He drops to one knee and removes the white mask hiding his face. Tears well in his eyes, falling freely against the cold concrete. Not that he really minds. Today marks his birthday after all, or rather the day Mana took him in. 

“Hi Mana, I hope you're doing well,”. Allen reaches into the basket and pulls out a flat piece of rock with the carving of a sunflower. “I know you like sunflowers but they don’t grow in Ta'var at this time of year so I thought this would be okay. I hope you like it,” he says placing the stone down along with some flowers and drops back on his heels. “Life with master has been one debt after another. He brings home women sometimes and I’m left to clean after his messes. He’s a pain to deal with, but he’s given me a place to stay and food to eat,”. Allen pauses, shuffling through his thoughts. Times like these he doesn’t know what to say. His mind seems to blank when he comes to visit. “I’ve done as you always said Mana, Never Stop, Always keep walking,”. He pulls his coat tight around his slim body, teeth chattering in the frigid air. “Well anyway, hope you’re happy wherever you are Mana,”. Nimble fingers run alongside the smooth edges of his mask as he rearranges it. . “Goodbye Mana, see you next year,”. 

The villagers arrive with an abundance of carnations and lilies. They bring baskets of sweets and goods to leave at the stone. For them, they are just as sad that someone as kind as he was killed so early on in his life. For one man to bring smiles to an entire village, it washed away their struggles. His smiles never faltered, not once. Today is a solemn day. 

*******

Arriving at the double wooden doors, Allen kicks off his boots and ventures in. He unclasps the coat hanging off his shoulders and hangs it over the back of a wooden chair. The smell of perfume is evident. Wine bottles are strewn over the small table, no doubt from his master who’s probably passed out drunk in another room. It’s a familiar sight and a mess. Allen sighs and goes to work, gathering the empty bottles and shoving them away into a box. He then sets down the basket on the now clear table. The rest of the living room is still as he left it. A plush grey blanket is strewn over the bright red couch. 

A small golden bird lands on his shoulders pecking at his hair. Allen gasps startled but his face soon morphs into a smile. It coos under the fingers that weave through its feathers. 

“Hey Tim,”. Tim caws back. “Is master in his room again?”. A solemn nod. “I guess that makes things easier then huh,”. He looks towards the fireplace when something catches his eye. 

Cross Marian despite being the drunk womanizer he is, is surprisingly smart and treasures his knowledge. Their living room is a library full of books of all kinds. His master would make him constantly organize it. Eventually, he took to just reading every single book over and over. So he’s left to wonder why this book facedown, rustic with a leather cover, is out of place. _My master never leaves a book out._

“Tim what happened? Master never leaves books out of place,”. The bird shrugs and returns its attention to his white locks. Allen sighs groaning internally. He kneels down and grabs the back by its cover, scanning over the title. _Dragon Heart._ Huh? Allen tilts his head in confusion. He doesn't remember this book ever and he would know, he spent a lot of time reading and re-reading the entire library. 

He sits down cross-legged on the carpet and scans through the first few pages. Tim nestles on his hair. The words are faded which makes sense considering it has a worn leather cover. He can only make out a few things, bits, and pieces of information. Something about mortals possessing the ability to tame...dragons? _That doesn’t make sense though._

From what he remembers, Ta'var once was one of the many lands that inhabited many different types of magical creatures. Avians, fairies, griffins, elves-anything that one could dream of. Magic flowed through their veins allowing them to create wonders around the world. Most of them were a peaceful race and co-existed with the humans that had arrived in their territory. They shared cultures and stories, speaking from wisdom and experience. Most beautiful of all were the fae folk and elves. They got along the best with humans. 

Humanity thrived in the lands learning the ways of the native. Some began to even learn the ways of magic and sorcery-they earned the title of mages and went to train others in said ways. Despite the stigma surrounding humanity, they were capable of wielding magic but one had to put time, resources, effort, and dedication. Elves were natural-born mages. Humans learned to treat the creatures not as something to be scared of but treasured and treated fairly. 

Despite the colorful and vivid life that filled Ta'var, light can’t live without the shadows of corruption. One particular family known as Lvellie had grown in power through questionable means. No one really knows where they came from, but from when their family came into contact with the royal family things started to change. Relations between humanity and the magical beings grew tense and worsened over the years. Rumors of them being kidnapped and used to experimentations spread like wildfire. And Ta'var had grown weary of the tightly strung string. 

A war broke out, one which the Lvellie’s lead. It was brutal for both sides. It was discovered that metals, specifically a mix of iron and silver could be used to weaken and eventually kill off all manner of magic. This caused a surge of blacksmithing where those not in the field were responsible for creating more gear. Stories were told of the creatures that lurked in the shadows who would hunt down naughty children and devour the souls of lost humans. Demons who ate the organs of unfortunate travelers. 

During the years, humans born with unique tattoos appeared though the time is unknown. Sadly, the only word people came up for them were monsters, freaks, and eventually Marked. They held the unusual ability to bond with a dragon via a seal bound to their body. Unfortunately, they were killed as abominations by their own kind, something that disgusts him. Allen remembers when his master taught him about it. It wasn’t a pleasant memory. The head of the Lvellie family outlawed all kinds of magic and drove creatures from their home. Any acts would be treated as treason and sentenced to a public death. The last of the Marked had died years ago. 

Allen slams the book shut after trying to read some legible parts for the umpth time. Why would a book about the Marked be here in his master's librar-

“Hey brat, happy birthday”. He cringes. A sharp slurred voice cuts through his thoughts. He shoves the book behind him putting on a smile and whips around facing the redhead. 

“Thank you, master,”. A package is thrown into his lap along with stacks of papers. He pales at the realization. “Master..please I just got done with your old ones-”. 

“I got more work for you boy. Get to it and wipe that smile off your face,”. And with that, he disappears into the hallway. Allen groans at the pile of papers around him. _Why can’t master give me a break?_

“Tim, remind me why I still deal with master’s drunken idiocies,” he mumbles, gathering them in an organized stack. Tim flies circles around him. “Give me a hand here Tim,”. The bird lands on his head again and preens his feathers. Allen mentally cries. _Useless bird..._

*******

After scavenging around the library for more information, Allen lands on his bed with a large _hmph._ Nothing. He came up empty-handed. Absolutely nothing. His curiosity is piqued and there’s nothing he can do to help it. 

“Why would my master leave a book talking about the Marked? Magic is outlawed throughout the land; it doesn't make sense. I don't even remember this being here,”. Allen stares at the ceiling longing for an answer. 

A glance out his windows shows the sun beginning to set. Allen sighs and pushes his discovery to the back of his mind. He dresses down into silky but warm pajamas and sets up a small makeshift nest for the bird. Tim always seems to sleep in his room despite their masters constant scolding and shouting. Tim had picked out an old sweater. Sadly it was his favorite one but he caved in letting his friend have his way. 

He can’t sleep, he realizes after minutes of staring at the ceiling again. _Oh yeah..._ His eyes find the poorly wrapped package he set down early on the nightstand table. He tosses it around. It jingles and feels light. It’s probably nothing big since his master usually spends his savings on women, booze, wine, and food to feed his endless stomach. 

A bracelet falls out. A light lavender dragon eye is carved in the middle with the pupil being black. Around it are different shades of purple, violet, and pink with the outer edges being a darker hue. The chain is of fine material too which surprises him. A lot. The more he looks at it the more he feels like someone is staring into his soul. It’s pretty lightweight too and small enough to hit under his cloak. It’s these rare moments where he’s thankful for his master being somewhat kind. 

Tim caws at him landing on the side of his bed. Allen pats his head. 

“Alright alright, I’ll go to sleep,”. He pulls his blankets close and lets sleep claim him. 

_He’s falling. Why..why is he falling? The sky is blackened by smoke and he hears a window shatter. A dagger lodges itself beside him before the assailant is thrown away from him._

_“Allen run!”. But he can’t. He’s frozen as he watches the man he called his father be slaughtered. His father's cries..their smiles of joy. Red stains the walls seeping into the wood. No..why can’t he move? Why is he..weak? Couldn’t he have done something to save his father?_

_“NO MANA!”._

_Pain. Someone is holding him down, their face hidden by a black mask with a large eerie smile. He kicks and struggles against them, but it’s useless. They’re laughing at him, dragging a knife down his left eye. The sound of carving flesh is sickening. Blood seeps into the floor and he screams so loud his throat goes hoarse. They point and smile._

_"He will forever be marked as an outcast, isn't it beautiful?"._

_He hears a fire spark before the ground around is lit ablaze. And thus his attackers disappear into the night._

_Allen runs through the house clenching his left eye shut tightly. He yelps as a piece of burning wood falls and collapses on his left arm. He screams, clawing at it in desperation. It hurts. So much pain. Why? Why is there so much pain?_

_He looks back at his house burning in the snow. He wants to cry but his eye refuses to leak. His arm is an angry red from the incident earlier as he clutches it tightly to his shivering body._

_“Help..help me please...if there’s any god out there please..,”. And that’s when he appeared. A man in a black cloak with a white mask staring down at him carrying him far away from the ruined home._

_And the ground beneath him crumbles to pieces. Allen opens his mouth in a silent scream clawing at the air. He hears so many screams that aren’t his own._

_“This is a nightmare nothing is real...nothing is real nothing is real,” he chants. This is only a nightmare. It’s all in his head...but why does it feel so real? He knows this feeling. He’s dreaming of the day his father died and when he got his scars._

_This however is new._

_His fall is stopped by a pool of liquid which he slams into. It feels tar-like and thick he realizes trying to move his limbs to reach the surface. Bubbles fly from his mouth as his lungs struggle to breathe. Little by little his strength dwindles and a burning sensation finds itself known. Something wraps around his ankle dragging him down. He screams filling his mouth with whatever he’s stuck in. It’s tasteless. When he looks up there’s two dark red eyes staring down at him and a petal floating above the surface. He claws at the liquid above him..falling...falling_

“..oy”. 

“..i boy”. 

“..llen,”. 

“ALLEN!,”, Allen’s eyes shoot open just as his head slams into the nightstand. 

“OW!,” he groans, rubbing his head. There’s a few things he realizes now that he's semi-awake. Tim is flying circles above his bed, he is in fact not in bed but on his floor and his master is digging his boot into his side. 

“What the hell are you screaming for boy?!?”. He can’t see his master's face, although he assumes it’s drawn in a tight scowl full of anger. A heaved sigh before he’s pulled up back onto his bed. Tim lands beside him“Damn brat disturbing my sleep,” he mutters. Allen winces. His mind is drawn back to his nightmare. “ _What..what was that?”_

“You have a nightmare or something kid?”. Oh. _Didn't mean to say that aloud..oops_

“Um..yeah sorry master”. Cross snorts. 

“Mana again?” A nod. “What happened this time,” he mutters. 

“..It was my birthday master, the day he died. I was there but I couldn’t move. I saw him die again. My scar..,”. Allen instinctively traces over the red flesh. Whoever it was, they made sure it was precise with purpose. “I remember it so well, master,”. 

“Was that all?”. 

“Yes,” he says. _No,_ he thinks. He’s passed two pills and a glass of water. “Take them. It’ll shut down your system so you can stop screaming all night,”. 

“Okay master..thank you..,”. A gruff nod before the door is slammed shut. Allen stares at the door. Images pass through his mind. Eyes the color of dark blood, and they didn’t look any bit human too. Near Mana’s house, there was never any pond and even if there was it would have been frozen. “Tim..what is going on with me..,”. He sighs, quickly downing the pills and wishing for a quiet sleep. 

*******

In the distance, a flare is lit from the hands of the shadows and thrown to the trees. Instantly the wood sparks and sets ablaze. Animals shriek and run from the surrounding forest. A boy rubs his tired eyes and grabs his yellow woolen hat. He pulls at the covers of his sister’s bed, shaking her awake. 

“..urgh..Narain?”. 

“Mina something’s happening outside,”. Mina gets up groggily before she sees it. It’s small and faint but in the distance red embers flare up eating away at their precious forest. Her eyes widen. 

“Narain, we need to go now,”. Narain tilts his head in confusion. Mina is always so calm, what would cause her to act like this? 

“Mina what’s going on?”. His sister rushes around their small house to gather necessities scaring him. He’s never seen her so fretful and anxious. 

“There’s no time to explain-,”. She dresses into thick clothing quickly. “Hurry now, we need to leave our village,”. Narain does as she asks with fear lingering in his stomach. 

Mina drags him outside of their house only to hear the cries of her innocent neighbors. The fire has spread, licking at the village now. She grasps her brother’s hand tightly before they run off in the opposite direction of the flares. Narain struggles to keep up, tripping on a root. 

“Come on let’s go!”. 

“Mina wai-”. It's an echo, a small quiet voice that speaks. 

“There will be no survivors. He orders all to die,”. She freezes just as an arrow pierces her heart dropping dead. Her brother, a dagger to the throat spewing blood from the wound. “There will be no survivors. He orders all to die,”. And thus, two figures disappear into the night. 

That night in a singular house hidden away to the visible eye two people sleep soundly.

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, hi. This is the prologue of a story I intend to start soon-ish? Let me know what you think even though it's not much. May or may no re-edit in the future. Until then, peace out.


End file.
